


Welcome Home

by Twisted_Mind



Series: thick [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 3am navel-gazing, Always Female Stiles Stilinski, Butch Peter Hale, Cis Female Stiles Stilinski, Daddy Kink, Dom Peter Hale, Dom/sub, Domestic, Established Relationship, F/F, Female Peter Hale, Fluff, Gender or Sex Swap, Genderqueer Character, Inspired By Tumblr, POV Peter Hale, Steter Week 2020, Sub Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:35:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25642903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twisted_Mind/pseuds/Twisted_Mind
Summary: Once they get down the hall, they hear it—the peculiar rabbity thump of Stiles’s heartbeat. Peter looks into their bedroom and sees her there, curled up asleep looking for all the world like there’s nowhere else she’d rather be.If the sight causes some warmth to blossom in the chest region and a smile to split their face, no one will ever know.
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: thick [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1831054
Comments: 44
Kudos: 234
Collections: Steter Week 2020





	Welcome Home

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Steter week, everyone! Just a quick piece with lots of feels from me this year--hope you all enjoy! 
> 
> Big thanks to Mrs_Ridcully, Bunnywest, and DiscontentedWinter for cheerleading and hand-holding on this one. 
> 
> Quick note: Peter’s pronouns shift in this between they/them and she/her, same as in the other two parts of the series, but it's a bit more pronounced here, because it's in Peter's POV.

Peter loves their job. They do, honestly, because their chosen profession is the perfect marriage of intellectual stimulation, physical challenge, and justified violence. It also brought Stiles into their life, and _that_ is a gift that keeps on giving.

Unfortunately, the job also keeps them away from Stiles more than they’d like. This time, it was a five-day job out of town that got the kind of messy you can’t scrub out. Their third-favourite pair of jeans is unsalvageable, unfortunately.

So Peter stumbles into their apartment bone tired and cranky as hell, wanting nothing more than to luxuriate in a hot shower before crawling into bed, preferably with Stiles. That, of course, would require getting on their motorcycle and riding to their favourite little troublemaker, and that’s just. Not in the cards tonight.

They kick off their boots and strip out of their ruined jeans right there in the hallway, dumping them in the kitchen trash with a little pang of regret. They should probably unpack their bag, but fuck it. It can wait until tomorrow. Shower and bed are the only important things right now.

_Well_ , they mentally revise, _shower, bed, and texting baby so she knows I’m back in town_.

Only it turns out that last one isn’t actually necessary. Peter’s not sure how they didn’t notice before, but once they get down the hall, they hear it—the peculiar rabbity thump of Stiles’s heartbeat. Peter looks into their bedroom and sees her there, curled up asleep looking for all the world like there’s nowhere else she’d rather be.

If the sight causes some warmth to blossom in the chest region and a smile to split their face, no one will ever know.

They head into the shower with a little bit more enthusiasm than they had walking in the door, and it occurs to them that this, this thing with Stiles, has grown far beyond what it started as. Not that Peter regrets the incredibly hot sex it started as, or the _still_ incredibly hot sex they have now, because the way Stiles goes soft and needy and open for them, the way she not only rolled with, but comes apart for, Peter as “Daddy” will never get old. But Peter has to admit, as they scrub shampoo through their short hair, there’s something about this—about coming home from five days away and wanting their baby as much as they want their own bed—that feels thick and rich like blood between their jaws under the full moon, satisfying something that sex alone doesn’t. Can’t.

It scares them, sometimes, the depth and thickness of what they feel for such a fragile slip of a human girl. If it were anyone else but Stiles, Peter thinks they might’ve been tempted to nip this in the bud. Kill it before it could grow roots to tangle around their heart and go deep into their guts, anchoring in the places where instinct—human and lupine both—live and breathe.

Sliding between their silk sheets, saturated with the scent of their favourite human, Peter’s glad that they didn’t. That they let her in, even if she is, somehow, inexplicably naked in Peter’s bed.

Peter sighs, curling around the slender back. “You utterly ridiculous creature,” she murmurs, kissing along Stiles’s exposed nape.

“’m not,” she mumbles sleepily. Peter’s almost 100% certain that she’s not actually awake.

But, on the off-chance she is—“Then why were you naked in my bed when I got home?” Peter’s not actually sure how she got in here—it’s not like she was given a key.

Stiles rolls over, burrowing in close. It makes them smile. Even under a perfectly cozy duvet, she’s forever seeking out the heat of Peter’s body. “Gotta sleep naked sometimes,” Stiles mutters against their shoulder.

Peter runs a hand up her back. “And why’s that?”

“Case th’ monster under the bed is down t’ fuck.”

Peter has to hold in a snort of laughter, and shakes a little with it. Stiles, apparently unhappy with their movement, winds an arm and leg around them, clinging like a limpet. Peter kisses their forehead grinning, and then drifts to sleep.

***

Peter gets woken up much too early by something squirmy, and grunts her displeasure. When that doesn’t make the squirming stop, she rolls over on top of it. It gets her a small huff. “C’mon Peter, you want to lemme up, promise.”

She presses down tighter because no, actually, she does not.

A small hand trails lightly up her side, tickling ever so slightly. At the breathy, sugar-sweet, “Let me up, Daddy, _pancakes_ ,” she grumbles again, rolling over and setting her captive free. But it’s still too fucking early for awake after rolling back in at fuck o’clock last night, so she pulls a pillow over her head.

The mattress dips as Stiles gets up. Peter drifts back into blissful unconsciousness.

She’s woken up again a while later by Stiles’s nails scratching gently against her scalp. “Wake up, Daddy, I made breakfast.”

Since the pillow over her head has, apparently, been removed, the delicious scent of pancakes and bacon is enough to make her stomach growl. She stretches, grumbling as she nuzzles into the head scratches. “Thanks, baby. Be out in a minute.”

Stiles drops a kiss on her head, and heads out to the kitchen. Peter can hear the sounds of her cupboards opening, the clink of plates being set on the counter and the rattle of cutlery in the drawer. It’s comforting in a way she didn’t realize it could be, and she wonders if she maybe ought to give her baby a key.

She visits the bathroom, and then pads out the kitchen, where Stiles has apparently made a mountain of pancakes. Which is just as well, because Peter feels half-feral with hunger now that she’s really paying attention to her stomach. Stiles grins as she inhales her first plate of pancakes and bacon, which reminds her—

“So, is this an apology breakfast for breaking into my apartment while I was away, or for apparently being willing to cheat on me with the monster under the bed?”

Stiles’s mouth drops open and her eyes go wide as her cheeks tint pink. “Oh my _God_!” she shrieks, flailing and sending her butter knife clattering to the floor.

It’s good to be home.

**Author's Note:**

> SOME EXCITING NEWS: I have a piece of short fiction being published in the fall! For more info on that, and on my writing in general, check out my [Tumblr](https://queerfictionwriter.tumblr.com/).


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